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The Importance of Being Idle
Sep. 17th, 2006 07:04 pmChrist I'm shattered.
And I've still got at least two hours' work to do.
Where does the time go? All I want to do is flop in front of the TV and brain-dead-view some movie or another. But, no, at least 1,000 words on the Asian insurance sector and (if I haven't collapsed in front of the monitor) another 1,000 on the World insurance sector are demanded. Although I could put the latter off until tomorrow morning in the office, at a pinch.
I did manage to write about 2,000 words of fiction today, which was pleasing. And it wasn't that bad, either, even though I say so myself.
But the poker suffered. I knocked out the 200 hands on Full Tilt to rack up my 100 points on the Gold challenge target (possibly one of my more pointless targets, although it does seem to be eating up the deposit bonus money at a healthy rate). Meanwhile I only picked up 40 points of the Poker stars points required. Then again, I did get 580 of those yesterday, so I guess that I can say that I have more than my fair share accumulated over the weekend. 220 more points required there.
Party Poker, meanwhile, suffered from only 120 hands or so, possibly my lowest count there for many a week.
On the plus side, I picked up modest gains on all three sites, despite the games not being particularly loose. Like I say, rocks, bring 'em on.
+++++
There was a great documentary on Stiff Records on Friday night and last night. on BBC 4, as well as a biography of Shane MacGowan. The curious thing about all three programmes is that no mention is made of the fact that The Pogues' original name was Pogue Mahone. I'm sure that I didn't imagine this in a drug-addled drunken haze when drinking one night with MacGowan, so I have to assume that either (a) the researchers into both programmes didn't do their research properly, or (b) they did, but didn't think the matter worth mentioning, or (c) it's an item that The Pogues would like whitewashed from history (there was no mention of the short-lived Popes in the Stiff programme, either).
Dave Robinson came across as a bit of a dickhead, I think, but, since he was a marketing genius, my Bill Hicksian view of marketing might be colouring the view. Jake Riviera seemed an OK bloke, but I thought that the real star was Wreckless Eric, whose description of the state of Stiff after Riviera left was:
"All of a sudden the people we had been taking the piss out of in the industry were in the boardroom".
And his comment on the second Stiff tour went something along the lines of:
"The first tour was brilliant, one long party. The second tour was meant to recreate that. But what happened was we would arrive at the train and they would give us half a can of weak lager each and tell us to look like we were having fun".
Marvellous. They don't make 'em like Eric any more.
Oh, and the story of when The Damned set fire to Elvis Costello's trousers after he had drunk a bottle of Pernod and passed out was pretty good as well. That, needless to say, was on the first Stiff tour.
Words typed today, Eleventy Thousand and Forty-Three.
And, by the way, I have tried, and failed, to record Timecodes. Twice.
The first time, the timing in the TV programmes was wrong, so the recording stopped before the film had ended. The second time, I allowed for this, and added half an hour on to the end. And it recorded the whole film.
Without any sound.
Fucking great.
Let's hope that Film 4 shows it a third time.
And now, I am going to relax for 15 minutes.
And I've still got at least two hours' work to do.
Where does the time go? All I want to do is flop in front of the TV and brain-dead-view some movie or another. But, no, at least 1,000 words on the Asian insurance sector and (if I haven't collapsed in front of the monitor) another 1,000 on the World insurance sector are demanded. Although I could put the latter off until tomorrow morning in the office, at a pinch.
I did manage to write about 2,000 words of fiction today, which was pleasing. And it wasn't that bad, either, even though I say so myself.
But the poker suffered. I knocked out the 200 hands on Full Tilt to rack up my 100 points on the Gold challenge target (possibly one of my more pointless targets, although it does seem to be eating up the deposit bonus money at a healthy rate). Meanwhile I only picked up 40 points of the Poker stars points required. Then again, I did get 580 of those yesterday, so I guess that I can say that I have more than my fair share accumulated over the weekend. 220 more points required there.
Party Poker, meanwhile, suffered from only 120 hands or so, possibly my lowest count there for many a week.
On the plus side, I picked up modest gains on all three sites, despite the games not being particularly loose. Like I say, rocks, bring 'em on.
+++++
There was a great documentary on Stiff Records on Friday night and last night. on BBC 4, as well as a biography of Shane MacGowan. The curious thing about all three programmes is that no mention is made of the fact that The Pogues' original name was Pogue Mahone. I'm sure that I didn't imagine this in a drug-addled drunken haze when drinking one night with MacGowan, so I have to assume that either (a) the researchers into both programmes didn't do their research properly, or (b) they did, but didn't think the matter worth mentioning, or (c) it's an item that The Pogues would like whitewashed from history (there was no mention of the short-lived Popes in the Stiff programme, either).
Dave Robinson came across as a bit of a dickhead, I think, but, since he was a marketing genius, my Bill Hicksian view of marketing might be colouring the view. Jake Riviera seemed an OK bloke, but I thought that the real star was Wreckless Eric, whose description of the state of Stiff after Riviera left was:
"All of a sudden the people we had been taking the piss out of in the industry were in the boardroom".
And his comment on the second Stiff tour went something along the lines of:
"The first tour was brilliant, one long party. The second tour was meant to recreate that. But what happened was we would arrive at the train and they would give us half a can of weak lager each and tell us to look like we were having fun".
Marvellous. They don't make 'em like Eric any more.
Oh, and the story of when The Damned set fire to Elvis Costello's trousers after he had drunk a bottle of Pernod and passed out was pretty good as well. That, needless to say, was on the first Stiff tour.
Words typed today, Eleventy Thousand and Forty-Three.
And, by the way, I have tried, and failed, to record Timecodes. Twice.
The first time, the timing in the TV programmes was wrong, so the recording stopped before the film had ended. The second time, I allowed for this, and added half an hour on to the end. And it recorded the whole film.
Without any sound.
Fucking great.
Let's hope that Film 4 shows it a third time.
And now, I am going to relax for 15 minutes.
